Chapter Text
Prologue
The thick and winding paths spread out around him in never ending trails - each vertex an event that spawned endless outcomes, and in turn, endless paths. All these events contained bright, white tears - a window into the event and time showcasing what is happening.
In some of these events, a teenage boy with black, and sometimes white hair saves the world with his blue flames and friends. Other times, that same boy is fighting against those friends, monsters and demons at this side, dark mask covering his face, blood on his clothes. In a very few of these windows there’s a black-haired woman, two nearly identical kids at her side. They’re always smiling, laughing - having a fun time. One of the little kids is playing with the greenmen on the ground in a forest. The other is cowering in a corner, afraid of the half-dead dog growling at him.
In each, there’s a man with a white hair. Sometimes he wears glasses and has a soft, caring smile. He operates a church, preaching to groups and helping the underprivileged. A few times he’s dressed in black, a shotgun in hand as he’s chanting words to fight off hordes of demons. The woman smiles in these, the happiest she has ever been with the man she loves and two kids at their side. She vows to protect and teach them - but always in the future of these paths, she’s gone. Missing from the path and lost in the endless streams of time.
But sometimes that man is gone - replaced by another of nearly the identical type. But these times, he doesn’t wear glasses and his smile is harsh and cruel. His eyes blaze a demonic blue as he yells at the kids, sometimes hitting and injuring them. He tosses them at monsters many times their sizes and laughs as the kids run, screaming from the demons pursuing them. The woman cries and screams in one, telling him to be kinder to the twins. But he doesn’t listen, he doesn’t care. He only cares for her; the kids are just an annoyance and in the way of his goal. And yet these paths too, she is gone in their futures - or more accurately, his futures.
Mephisto Pheles wanders the black void of time and space, following the multicolored path that sprawls forever onward. The demon king stops at a few windows and glances in, sneers his face in disgust and waves his hand - forcing the potential future to vanish and shatter into millions of tiny, opalescent shards. The path that came to and from it breaks apart from the current of time with a small, almost inaudible snap.
He continues forth, repeating the processes a few more times, not bothering to watch as many countless futures and lives are destroyed or saved in his small actions. He is searching, searching for a moment for reasons nearly unknown to all but to himself.
He comes across a few windows, glancing in and watching as the older of the two twins grows up.
In one, he finds him fighting off demons as an exorcist, fighting against Satan. The two blue masses of fire and flame going head to head over an ice covered landscape. Hordes of demons and humans fight underneath them, many of them dying, fighting in a battle both sides hope to win.
In another, he finds the older in a hospital room, missing years of his life because of an encounter with an ancient demon. There’s a brown-haired boy kneeling at his bedside, crying and praying for him to wake from his endless slumber. And when he does, he wakes to a world he doesn’t recognize and to people he barely knows.
In the next, he finds him in a forest being guided by a blond-haired girl as she talks happily about something, her voice a buzz in his ears. She brings the boy to a small clearing and there sits a girl with purple fox ears and a boy with red and gold wings.
The demon king sighs and struts away from each future, not erasing a single one. He takes an abrupt right turn from the large main path of the time stream and comes to a small tendril of colors. The tear at this vertex is smaller than others and it grabs Mephisto’s attention just a tad more than the rest.
He walks forward and peers inside, and a giant, cruel smile crosses his face.
The world before him is covered in blue and orange flames, engulfing the lands in their fierce heat. Hundreds, possibly thousands of small shapes of varying size and shape gather around - humans and demons. Are they fighting each other or fighting something else, the window doesn’t tell him, and the path doesn’t continue. A deep, demonic cry of agony rings out in opposed harmony with the dying sounds of a holy bird and Mephisto claps his hands together, a giant paintbrush appearing at this side.
This, this is the future he was searching for.
And with a single flick of the rainbow tip, he paints the path of millions to bring this future forth.
Chapter 1
Relocation and Dreams
The white and gold key felt heavy in his as he turned it over, the orange and yellow setting sun from his window glinting off the small intricacies and details that were crafted into its base and handle. He flicked his eyes to the dark wooden door and back to the key. Open the doorway to your new future, the letter had said. This wasn’t the first time Ryuuji was to stand before the Grigori and the other leaders of the True Cross Order. The other times only involved his exorcist promotions, and very rarely, mission assignments. But he’d always been there with others, this would be his first time standing before them alone.
He felt nervous, his hand shaking slightly, as he pushed the key into the door and turned. There was a near silent click and Ryuuji felt the hum of magic as the door swung open to reveal a darkened stone arched hallway, the end illuminated by a bright, white light. He withdrew the key and stashed it in his pocket before stepping over the threshold, the door closing behind him with a thud.
It was a short walk to the end of the hallway, but each step Ryuuji took felt like a lifetime. He could feel his heart start to race, his hands becoming slick with sweat. And then he was there, crossing the threshold into the bright space of the council’s meeting chamber. In the direct center of the chamber sat a round, wooden table edged with gold, computer screens sitting in front of each high back, wooden chairs. Directly above the table was an artificial light that threw long shadows into the depths of the chamber, making the space feel immensely larger than it actually was. The high-back chairs were occupied by nearly each person in the Order that could end his career in a single heartbeat.
Three members of the Grigori sat on the furthest edge of the round table, dressed in white robes with differing accent colors, their faces covered by a veil of cloth. To their right sat the current Paladin - Fuijimoto Shiro. He sat straight backed in the high chair, the tip of his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. His red eyes flicked from the computer screen before him to Ryuuji. Ryuuji swallowed thickly and felt a bead of sweat roll down his face, but didn’t look away from the Paladin as he did a once over of the aria, probably determining if Ryuuji was worth what he was summoned here for.
To Fujimoto’s right slouched Kirigakura Shura; an upper first-class exorcist who’d he only taken a few courses under. He’d heard of her accomplishments and about the demon sword she wielded. She looked bored, as if this meeting wasn’t of any importance to her but that she was forced to attend anyway. The final person at the table sat to the left of the Grigori and was someone Ryuuji was all too familiar with.
Mephisto smiled at him, an inviting and friendly smile that Ryuuji could only guess was fake. The Director of the Japanese Branch placed his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled. Ryuuji approached the edge of the table and stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, and clasped his hands behind his back - coming to attention like a soldier before his commanding officers. He let his eyes glance at each person in turn and then settle on the demon lord as he begun to speak.
“And just like clockwork, he shows up right on time! See, isn’t he punctual? Now, why don’t we begin.” As Mephisto spoke, he snapped his fingers and a sheet of brown, worn paper fluttered to the edge of the table near where Ryuuji stood. “That,” Mephisto indicated toward the paper with a small wave of his fingers, “is a morinath contract. Once this meeting is adjourned, you will be signing it. The details discussed here cannot leave this room, nor can you breathe a word about any of this to anyone.” The smile before him wasn’t friendly anymore, it was malicious. A smile that Ryuuji knew would end him one day.
A morinath contract - Ryuuji had heard of it before, but never had he seen one. The paper didn’t look normal in nature, there was a strong, magical feeling about it. There were symbols inked in a harsh, black hand across the top, they varied in size and shape and Ryuuji couldn’t fit them into any language or culture he knew of. Below them sat a black, ominous, three-fourths circle, multiple lines jutted out of it at intervals along the circle’s edges. Cutting through the middle of the symbol were two lines that ran perpendicular; one pointing up to down, and the other left to right, each tipped with an arrowhead. The space between all those shapes was just large enough for a fingerprint.
By pressing his finger to that paper, sealing the contract with his own blood, Ryuuji would be bound to whatever terms were written before him. Terms he didn’t know with conditions he was hoping to find out.
Ryuuji slowly pulled his attention away from the demonic contract to look up at Mephisto, the demons’ eyes were slitted, and he could see the green underneath them, watching him with interest.
“Suguro Ryuuji. Upper second-class exorcist trained as both an aria and dragoon. In training for his doctor meister.” A low, female voice read out his information. Ryuuji let his eyes travel toward the sound and saw one of the Grigori, her white garments accented in green and gold, using a white gloved finger to trace a line on a piece of paper. He blinked, his eyes refocusing on Mephisto.
“You have a minor list of accomplishments, the most notable being your victory against kin of the Demon King of Fire. Was that the demon that caused a volcano off the Mexican coast to erupt? I’d heard only a small squad was sent in to handle the issue, and surprisingly, all had survived.” Ryuuji recalled the event of two years ago briefly; he’d been pulled from a patrol to join a group of six others in exorcising the upper level demon. He could sometimes still feel the heat of the lava against his skin and the acrid smoke and ash in his lungs.
“Do you have any experience working with tamers? Or working closely with… tamed demons?” A male voice asked the question, another of the Grigori, his white robes accented in blue and gold.
“I do.” Ryuuji forced himself to say slowly, trying his best to keep the slight tremble from his voice. He tried to resist the urge to play with his fingers behind his back, opting instead to squeeze them together, the nails biting into his skin. He’d worked with tamers, both personally and professionally. The image of a purple haired girl, a clan of foxes surrounding her, came to mind.
“I see, that’s good. For this assignment, you will be tasked with periodically protecting a tamer while they perform their duty for the Order. But that’s only a small part of the job. The bulk of this assignment will involve you guarding and protecting an area only known to those of us here in this room.”
“Have you ever heard of Sanctuary?” Fuijimoto spoke this time and Ryuuji finally moved his eyes away from Mephisto to look at the older, white-haired Paladin.
“No, I haven’t.” Sanctuary - it implied a place of peace and safety, protection. A place free from harm and trouble.
“Sanctuary,” Fujimoto continued, “is where you will be assigned starting from tomorrow morning onwards. Trust us when we say we cannot give you any further details on the assignment. Just understand that you will be protecting that location, and everything involved with it. If it comes down to it, you may have to lay down your life. Do you understand so far?”
Ryuuji nodded his head, doing his best to maintain eye contact and not look away. The information so far had been pretty straight forward - protect a location, protect another exorcist, assist in that person’s tasks. It sounded just like any other guard duty he’d been on. Why was this something that the highest members of the order had to tell him directly? Was there something larger at play?
“You can stop thinking too hard about it,” Fujimoto commented and leaned back in his chair. “Thinking too much about this could get you killed. Don’t try to understand it, just trust us and do as you’re told. Now,” he turned to face the members of the Grigori, “is there anything else, or can we call this meeting done?”
“Your job is performed by two other individuals,” the female voice earlier spoke again. “You three work in rotation, only one of you present inside Sanctuary at all times. You will be tasked with the morning shift, from dawn to mid-afternoon. The evening guard from then-on to night, and the night guard from night to dawn. You will meet both tomorrow and will communicate any issues or other information between each other through verbal use only. No writing or electronic information must pass between each of you, it’s for all of your own safety. If anything seems out of the ordinary, it needs to be reported to us immediately, by yourself or one of the others.”
“That should conclude everything. We’d prefer you don’t ask any questions, but if you have any - ask them carefully.” It was the final member of the Grigori that spoke - her voice ringing out like a silver bell.
Ryuuji shifted his weight a little, letting the information run through his mind again. He unconsciously started to fiddle with his fingers. He didn’t have any questions exactly, everything they said made perfect sense to him.
“You said this information doesn’t leave this room. Does that mean only everyone here and the other two guards know of this… sanctuary?” His voice trailed off at the end, trying the word for the first time.
“Yes, only us eight, now nine, know of this. We’d prefer the number be smaller - much smaller. But this matter is what it is.” The third Grigori responded again.
Ryuuji nodded his head and refocused on the contract sitting on the table.
“How do I sign the contract?” Ryuuji glanced up and stared right into the green eyes of Mesphisto. The demon lord smiled back, a hint of cruelty at the edges.
Ryuuji closed the door behind himself, letting it fall shut with a thud.
His room was cast in darkness, the half-moon outside illuminated the desk against the window in silver light. The windows were open and the chilly, late fall air blew in, making the dark curtains flutter slightly as a bright piece of pastel paper fluttered to the ground.
Ryuuji felt his legs give out and allowed himself to slump against the door, his back dragging down the wood till he sat on the floor. He drew his knees up and rested his arms atop them, letting his body unwind from the tension of the meeting.
Open the doorway to your new future.
He knocked the back of his head against the door and let his eyes fall onto the pastel pink paper sitting on the floor. The letter had been floating in his room when he’d arrived earlier that day; a missive from Mephisto sealed by scarlet wax. The message itself wasn’t longer than a few sentences; a few statements that changed his entire life in a matter of minutes.
Dearest Suguro Ryuuji-
Use the enclosed key at dusk and hold your head high, for you have been assigned to a new position at the Vatican. Effective immediately, you will be moving from the Japanese Branch dormitories to the Vatican headquarters in the morning, please be prepared.
Open the doorway to your new future, we will be awaiting you.
Yours truly,
Mephisto Pheles
Japanese Branch Director
A new future, a new life.
This wasn’t on Ryuuji’s bucket list when he became an exorcist. His goals were simple, he thought: become an exorcist, defeat Satan, take over his temple, and restore the Myoo Dharani to what they were before. All of those were attainable if he applied himself hard enough, studied better, and pushed himself further than everyone else. But now the idea of returning to Kyoto one day felt distant, he’d be relocated to Italy - home of the Vatican City in the heart of Rome, with no real idea of when he would - or could - come back.
Ryuuji pulled his thoughts away from leaving Japan and turned his hand over. Glancing down, he saw the dried, red blood on his thumb. The feeling of pricking his finger and pressing it against the ancient paper still hummed through him. The moment his blood and skin touched that contract, he’d felt the hairs all over his body stand on edge. The sharp wisp of air rushing around him as the magic within the paper came to life. Within that instance, the same symbol on that paper - the three-fourths circle with its esoteric lines - was engraved on the back of his right hand. It had sat there for the briefest of moments, before sinking into his skin and vanishing from sight. But Ryuuji could still feel the heavy promise it kept, and how much it frightened him.
The memory hung heavy in his head when Ryuuji stood up. Pushing off the door, Ryuuji made his way to the dresser that sat on the right wall, opposite his bed. He opened a few drawers and took stock of what clothes he had, and then he started to wonder what supplies he would need to bring. What was the weather like in Vatican City? Would it be warmer, or cooler compared to central Japan? Would they even have food he liked? Could he travel back to Japan anytime he wanted? He let those thoughts take over his mind as he prepared for the morning.
A few hours later, his phone reading 11:24 P.M., Ryuuji closed the single window and changed into a pair of pajama bottoms. He crawled into bed and rolled onto his side, facing his soon to be empty room.
Sleep came quick, the events of the day and packing catching up with him, and soon enough, he was breathing heavily, the vastness of sleep and dreams overtaking him.
Ryuuji’s dream was a puzzle of hundreds of thousands of pieces. Many of them scattered around the vast, blank space around him. Some of the pieces were blue, some were black, many were blank; void of color and meaning.
He put the puzzle together slowly, fitting the oddly shaped pieces together into a picture he couldn’t see, but somehow knew the shape of. Or Ryuuji felt he knew the shape of. It was familiar to him, in a way breathing and blinking were. Something he’d seen an infinite amount of times, but couldn’t recall. He’d never seen it before, the creature at the center of the puzzle. The black, disfigured shape covered in blue paint. The blue flickered off of it and splattered onto other pieces, as if it was a fire crackling around it. And he could vaguely make out what looked like arms and legs, and what could possibly be considered a sword.
But in the end, he wasn’t able to finish it before the vibrations and jingling of a sound awoke him from slumber.